Page 68 of Pretty Thing

Kris: And before you try and argue. YES, I know you’re grieving. YES, I know you’re tired, but isolating yourself in that house isn’t healthy.

I stare at the message too long. Part of me knows she is right, but another part of me…the selfish part…the part I don’t want to examine too closely…wants to stay home and have a quiet night with Felix.

Kris: Please, Eden. We love you, and we want to make today a special day for you. We’re your best friends and we always see you at some point on your birthday. Pleeeeease, pretty please, with whip cream and a cherry on top.

I roll my eyes. Are we kids again?

Eden: Okay, stop it…I’ll be ready to go.

Kris: Yes!!!! Oh…but…I don’t want Felix to come. This is a day for family and he’s not family yet.

The subtle insult isn’t even aimed at me, but I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.

Eden: Kris, he’s been my rock, and he doesn’t have anyone either.

Kris: No. I’m serious. I want one night where it’s just us like the old days or as close as we can get without your parents being here. Besides, he is always there, hovering and monopolizing your time lately. This is just for us. Something normal.

Normal?

Nothing will ever be normal again.

Kris: Please. It’s only a few hours…what did he do before you? I miss you. How are we supposed to have girl talk and stuff? I’ll even paint your nails.

A sliver of guilt picks at my brain because I know Kris is grieving too. She was close to my parents, and she almost lost me in the crash as well. Now, instead of spending Christmas with her family properly, she’s trying to include me so I don’t drown alone in this house.

Eden: Okay, I won’t bring him.

Kris: Good. And wear comfy clothes because my dad has already threatened board games and karaoke after dinner.

Eden: Karaoke feels emotionally violent today.

Kris: Exactly why we’re doing it.

The conversation ends, and I slowly lower the phone onto my chest.

An hour later, I force myself out of bed. Every movement still aches, but it’s a bit more manageable. I’m supposed to do my exercises, but it’s my birthday so…fuck that.

I make coffee on autopilot, staring blankly out the kitchen window, watching the snow pile up in the backyard. The early morning light makes it glow with a golden hue.

The roar of an engine cuts through the silence, and I turn to see headlights paint the living room wall.

My heart reacts before my brain does—Felix.

I’m limping toward the door before he even knocks. The second I open it, cold air rushes in. He’s carrying three grocery bags and a light dusting of snow on the shoulders of his leather jacket that genuinely looks sexy as hell on him.

He stops and leans over to kiss my cheek. Warmth spreads inside of me.

“Merry Birthday, Pretty Thing.”

“Merry Birthday? I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

“Thought I’d merge the two and make something unique just for you.”

My smile is instant, and the fact that I can smile hits so hard it almost hurts.

“Merry Christmas, Felix.”

His expression softens as I close the door and he kicks off his boots.